


FROM THE SIDELINES

by AgnesClementine



Series: FIGHTERS OF THE GOOD FIGHT [9]
Category: Supernatural, The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, John's POV, M/M, others are just mentioned really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:56:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21583393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgnesClementine/pseuds/AgnesClementine
Summary: John watches them for a second longer because Dean looks happy, awkward and happy, but it’s none of his business, so he just stumbles along to the bathroom, heart aching for Mary.*****************************************************Just a little piece of John's POV throughout the series so far.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Dean Winchester
Series: FIGHTERS OF THE GOOD FIGHT [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1301294
Comments: 40
Kudos: 251





	FROM THE SIDELINES

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty short and I'm sorry for the long wait! This installment fought me every step of the way until I finally spit it out on the page today XD
> 
> Enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

John doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at Mary’s picture in his wallet, but when his older son comes into the room, it takes him a moment to wipe her features from his sheepish expression. The light coming from outside is pale and faint, so it must be near dawn and he begrudgingly accepts the fact that he has spent the whole night looking at the photo of his dead wife.

There’s a bruise blooming on Dean’s jaw, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Where’d you get that shiner?”

He knows the answer immediately by the way Dean hunches his shoulders. He narrows his eyes at him.

“Did it hurt you?” He asks because if Dean’s been out on the crime scene in the middle of the night alone (and he was alone, John knows he’d never drag Sammy out after dark) and he came back with a bruise, something was there to give him that bruise.

Dean shakes his head, says, “No, I- There was someone else there. A guy, but he’s normal.”

“A guy? He hit you?”

“Yeah, I mean, he’s my age. And in his defense, it was dead of the night in the middle of the forest,” his son shrugs.

He wants to say more, John can tell, so he waits him out. Both his sons are stubborn like bulls, an unfortunate trait they got from him, but Sammy’s always harder to crack. Dean just needs a bit of silence, especially when there’s something he’s dying to say or ask.

Soon enough, he clears his throat. “His name is Diego and he’s also looking for the murderer.”

“He’s a hunter?”

“No, he thought it was a serial killer,” Dean says, then after a beat adds, “I, uh, gave him the talk. He took it surprisingly well. I think he could help.”

And there it is.

John can’t say anything about Dean’s decision to tell that kid the truth; it’s on him now, and Dean knows the responsibility it brings. But the other part…

“You think a civilian can help?”

His son scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Uh, considering he almost gauged my eyes out, yeah? He’s got some training, he said he helps people in his city too.”

John swallows the remark about vigilantism and asks a more important question, “And you think you can trust him?”

Dean is silent for a moment, so it’s reassuring that he’s actually thinking about it. John doesn’t doubt that his son is smart, but he also has Mary’s big heart- even after everything- and emotions sometimes get in way of rational thinking.

In the end, he nods, “Yeah. I think I can.”

  * ●●●●



John didn’t expect the kid to be quite so eager to chase around monsters after sundown with nearly complete strangers, but the kid is stubborn and not easily intimidated, and he admits to being damn glad that he’s here when the damn were’ is about to take a bite out of his eldest son.

He’s getting his heart rate under control, the feeling of ‘almost loss’ drumming sickly in his chest, while the kid retrieves the knife he whipped out of nowhere from the dead monster’s back. There’s practiced ease in his movements, and if John had any doubts about Diego not being able to fend for himself- that’s one hell of a scar he has- they have all evaporated by now.

  * ●●●●



Dean is not as obvious in his moping and whining as Sammy, who wants to make sure John knows that he’s not pleased with whatever it is that John’s doing. But he’s still John’s son, the baby John held after he was born, and the little kid he tucked into bed before their perfect life went up in smoke, and John has to believe he can still read him well enough.

He does his chores and goes through his training, and practices shooting, but there’s a dark cloud following his every step. Dean is Mary’s son through and through, and his eyes dim just like hers when he’s not happy. Not that John thinks either of his sons is ever really happy (it’s not surprising with the lives they lead, but if that doesn’t gut him, he doesn’t know what does) but this goes beyond that.

Some nights, after checking the salt lines and protection sigils, he finds Dean snoring into the pillow, angled towards Sammy on the other bed, with his phone in his sleep-relaxed fingers and a little kid grin John doesn’t think he saw before on his face.

He thinks about looking for a case somewhere closer to civilization.

  * ●●●●



For a few weeks now, John has come home- their current, temporary home- to three voices overlapping in the living room, or the kitchen. He always thinks it would surprise him, throw him off, that there is another person in their ranks, but it just feels normal. He hangs his coat on the rack, he greets the kids, and it feels normal.

They eat together, and the atmosphere is always more alive because Diego doesn’t come off as loud and doesn’t exactly have a lot of opinions to share, but he’s always ready to poke fun at both Sam and Dean like they’ve known each other for years. They steal food off each others’ plates, and if Diego knows he brings about awe from both of John’s sons whenever he tosses something in the trash with a seemingly effortless flick of his wrist and perfect aim, he doesn’t let it show. Granted, John is feeling a bit awed himself, but he’s more in awe at the knowledge of the type of training and the degree of dedication the kid must have to get his aim to this level.

  * ●●●●



John drowns himself in two bottles of whiskey with Bobby as soon as they’re all back in Sioux Falls. Monsters he understands. But humans, plain old humans? He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised, seeing the shit he had seen while he served, but it still unnerves him like a hot needle poking at a sensitive nerve.

Monsters have no say in the matter, they are evil just because they are, because it’s in their nature. But humans are not bound to the sin, they have their free will and their morals and their souls. They can choose. And by God, seeing with his own two eyes what they choose sometimes, he wonders if there’s really a point in saving this forsaken world. The devil has clearly stained it with his hands already.

But he thinks about Sam then, and his heart lurches in his chest. He takes another drink.

  * ●●●●



In the morning, sick to his stomach and feeling entirely too old for everything, he crawls out of the bed and freezes next to the window at the sight that greets him.

Dean and Diego are feeding that huge mutt Bobby keeps, Rumsfeld. They are not minding the cold, seated on gas canisters, their knees touching. Dean looks somber, but not defeated after the last hunt’s revelation, and Diego is all tense lines, ready to snap. John remembers him in that building, and the bodies he left behind. The kid looked furious, ready to jump out of his goddamned skin. He doesn’t seem to be doing much better now, but he’s talking to Dean with his hands in the dog’s fur, petting it gently like a small child. It didn’t escape John how he takes pleasure in mundane tasks, sometimes, like raking leaves in the back, or washing dishes, and he knows that part of the reason he and Dean get along so well is because the kid didn’t have a normal childhood either.

One of his hands is flying through the air as he talks, winding up, and John catches a blur of black and red on his wrist, frowns because the tattoo looks somewhat familiar.

Dean catches it in his own, interlacing their fingers, and Diego stops talking. They are both looking at the dog with their ears turning pink.

John watches them for a second longer because Dean looks happy, awkward and happy, but it’s none of his business, so he just stumbles along to the bathroom, heart aching for Mary.


End file.
